Kenny swallowed, giving a little nod. He wondered if he should ask if she really wanted to keep it, but decided that might be a bit too blunt at this stage.
He took hold of her hand and gave it a little squeeze. She looked so lovely that he wanted to climb into bed beside her and prove how much he loved her, here and now, in front of everyone. That would show them.
He had a sudden vision of what he’d been doing an hour since, and wondered how Dena would react if he asked her to play the same game. The thought shamed him. She would be his wife, above such things. He’d never treat Dena in such a way! How could he, when she was so utterly perfect? Nor did he need to, since he could still have Maureen, even after they were married. Maureen had explained that there was no reason why not, so long as Dena didn’t find out. This delightful prospect banished the problem of the baby instantly from his mind.
‘Mam says you’re to come to tea on Sunday, so we can talk things through and start making plans.’
Dena said, ‘Have you found a job yet, Kenny? I can only work for a few more months. How will we manage after that? We’ll need plenty of money coming in with a new baby to feed as well as somewhere decent to live.’
‘I know, I know. Don’t fret. I’ve put some feelers out. You can safely leave all of that to me.’
He sounded irritated by the question so Dena decided to press no further on the subject, not at this point. At least he still loved and wanted her. Oh, and didn’t she love him for that? Who else cared about her? Not a living, breathing soul. Not her own mother, not the home where she’d lived for the last two years. Even Miss Rogers, who’d turned out to be more human than she’d first appeared, was only doing her job.
Dena simply couldn’t imagine life without Kenny beside her, her one true friend, the only person not condemning her.
He said now, ‘After you’ve settled in somewhere, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. She wants to help, if you’ll let her.’
‘That would be lovely! Any friend of yours, Kenny, is a friend of mine. Besides, I think we’re going to need all the help we can get.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Miss Rogers found Dena a room to rent on Champion Street that overlooked the fish market. It was small and dark with a bed in one corner and a sink and single gas jet on which to boil a kettle, in the other. She would have the dubious pleasure of waking up every morning to the smell of smoked haddock.
‘Best I can do, I’m afraid. People go all starchy when I explain your condition, and we really can’t keep it a secret for much longer, can we? Nor can we take the risk of your being thrown out with a young baby to care for. It’s such a pity your uncle couldn’t have been more accommodating.’
‘Why should he be? He doesn’t even know me. Anyway, I don’t want to live too far from the market. It wouldn’t be very convenient.’ And Dena certainly didn’t want to live with her mother again.
Dena had received a letter from this unknown uncle of hers, stating that he was only prepared to offer her a home if she agreed either to have the baby adopted, or to marry a respectable man of his choice. She would also be required to keep out of sight until either of these happy events were brought about. Dena had torn up the letter and thrown it away.
‘No, I don’t suppose it would help much, living too far away, still, he is family. . .’ Miss Rogers decided to keep her opinions to herself. She’d said too much already, was getting far too emotionally involved with this girl, which wasn’t professional. Not like her at all.
Dena walked to the window to look out upon the familiar stalls with their slabs of wet fish, the colourful displays of mackerel, cod and salmon, the cries of the fishmongers calling out their special offers as they gutted and sliced, canvas flapping in the rain, people laughing and shouting back with some cheerful quip or other.
If she leaned further out she could see Barry Holmes weighing carrots, indulging in a bit of banter with a customer, which brought her some comfort at least, to have an old friend so near. It felt as if she had come home.
But deep inside of herself Dena felt as bleak as the weather, as cold as those poor dead fish, and just a little bit frightened. What was happening to her? How would she cope with a baby on her own? Would Kenny really marry her? Did she even want him to?
This wasn’t what she’d planned to do with her life at all. What about all those dreams she’d had to get herself a good job, have money to spend on clothes and records? She’d longed to enjoy her freedom and have a good time.
Oh, she’d got herself into a proper pickle this time with her silly rebellion. Dena couldn’t even make the excuse of ignorance, not since moving in to Ivy Bank and listening to the other girls’ talk. She’d known what she was doing all right, and hadn’t cared about the risks, believed that sort of thing only happened to girls who were at it every night, that it wouldn’t happen to her. Certainly not the first time.
Miss Rogers set Dena’s suitcase down on to a threadbare rug that covered the green scarred lino and gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Winnie says she’s looking forward to seeing you on Monday morning. At least you’ll have company during the day, and you’ll soon have this place spruced up a bit. Clean those mucky windows for a start. Maybe she’ll find you a scrap of fabric for new curtains. A bit of fresh colour would brighten the place up no end.’
They both gazed about them at the dingy room, the narrow bed, single hard-backed chair and rickety table, the flock wallpaper peeling from the walls. There wasn’t even a wardrobe, just a few pegs behind the door.
Miss Rogers became suddenly brisk. ‘I’ve brought you a few bits and pieces to start you off. A kettle and a pan, cup and saucer, plate, packet of tea and some Peak & Frean’s biscuits. Cornflakes, a Hovis loaf and a packet of marg.’ As she listed the items, she unpacked a cardboard box on to the table. ‘Even a tin of rice pudding to warm up for your tea.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Dena said, struggling to smile.
‘Right, well, I’ll come and see you in a few days, to check how you’re settling in.’ The woman seemed reluctant to leave, paused to put a shilling next to the groceries. ‘For the gas metre.’ Then she was gone, and Dena was all alone.
She felt utterly bereft, as if her only friend in the world had just walked out on her, which was stupid. How could you think of a social worker as a friend, even if she was the only one willing to lift a finger and do anything for her.
Although she still had Kenny, of course. She was forgetting about Kenny, and the family tea she still had to face with his mam on Sunday.
Perhaps things weren’t quite so bad as they might be. Not even this poky bedsit. Looking about her, it came to Dena in a blinding flash of happiness that this was hers to do with as she wished. It might be tiny but she had it all to herself. No longer would she have to share a dormitory with a dozen other girls, all snoring and snuffling and weeping in the dark. She was free.
Rolling up her sleeves she found a bucket and scrubbing brush. First off, she’d give the place a good going over. Make it entirely her own. And as she struggled with the hot water geyser, she even began to hum a little tune.
‘By heck, where’s that skinny little waif gone who used to be my Saturday girl? You must have shot up six inches.’
Dena managed a chuckle, secretly pleased by Belle’s astonishment. She’d felt apprehensive about meeting Kenny’s mother again, wondering what her reaction might be. ‘I’m still too thin, or so everyone tells me, and I’ve grown three inches as a matter of fact. I’m five foot four.’
Belle said admiringly, ‘Well, you’ve certainly grown up, that’s for sure. I love your hair, it suits you. Our Kenny never mentioned that you’d turned into a beauty.’
Dena flushed. ‘Now you’re embarrassing me.’
Carl was embarrassing her too, just standing there staring at her, saying nothing.
Belle shook her head in a gesture of sad despair. ‘I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for, taking on our Kenny. Still, I don’t suppose you have m
uch choice in the matter? This is a right kettle of fish and no mistake, or perhaps fish is a sensitive subject since you’re living almost on top of the fish market these days, I understand. But you don’t have to worry. We look after our own on Champion Street, so welcome to the family, love,’ and to Dena’s great surprise, Belle put her arms about her and gave her a warm, scented hug.
‘Oh, thank you!’
Like his brother, Kenny had uttered not a single word throughout this small exchange, choosing to stand well back and keep out of the way. Perhaps he too was worried about his mother’s reaction.
Dena was fairly stunned by it herself. She’d been expecting the worst, but then you never could be sure with Belle as she could change as swiftly as the weather. So, despite her warm, pleasant manner, Dena remained wary.
Belle led her into the living room where a welcome fire was blazing on this blustery spring day, and a table laid for tea. There was even a plateful of home-made cherry buns. No doubt baked by good old Joan Chapman at the café.
‘You’re not the first in our family who’s had to make a dash for the altar. I was married myself at seventeen and my sister had two children before she was . . .’
‘Mam! We don’t need to go into all our family history,’ Carl interrupted, glowering at Dena in disapproval.
‘Why not? She’ll be a part of it soon enough.’
‘I hope not.’
Kenny jerked forward. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said, I sincerely hope she doesn’t join our family. She’s manipulated you into this situation.’ Carl summed up Dena with a sneering glance. ‘Look at her. Abandoned by her mother and taken into care at fourteen. Due to be released into the world at sixteen but with no home to go to. What better than to get herself knocked up by you, idiot that you are, so she can get her feet under our table. The best in all of Champion Street. That way she gets a husband, job, and a home, all in one neat package.’
Belle said, ‘Eeh, I reckon that’s cutting it a bit strong, lad. Girls are soft as putty where men are concerned. One smile from our Kenny and she wouldn’t think at all. Isn’t that right, love?’
Dena could feel the rage burning inside her, knew her expression reflected her emotions as her voice came out tight with fury. ‘If you must know, when Kenny first asked me to marry him, I said no. I didn’t want all that domestic stuff, but . . .’
‘You know which side your bread’s buttered,’ Carl said, hissing the words out between gritted teeth. ‘Course you do, and you might as well go for the jackpot eh? Make the best of a bad job.’
She wanted to smack that supercilious expression right off his handsome face. What did he know about her? Nothing! Nothing at all. But it was Kenny who again leapt to her defence.
‘Keep your nose out of my business, or I’ll flatten it.’
Belle held up both hands, palms gently flapping in a calming motion. ‘You two are always japing over something, but we’ll have none of your fisticuffs today. And for God’s sake Carl, stop being such a Holy Joe and looking all poker-faced. Get the lass a nice glass of sherry. We should be celebrating my first grandchild, not engaged in argy-bargy. Come on love, sit by the fire and take no notice. You shouldn’t stand too long, not in your condition. Sherry Carl. Now, if you please!’
With an expression even more sour, Carl flung open the door of a fancy cocktail cabinet and pulled out four glasses, unscrewed the lid of a bottle of sweet sherry, and began to pour. When they’d all been served, Belle turned to Dena with a beaming smile.
‘Here’s to the baby, love. Isabel, after me, if it’s a girl, and Frankie if it’s a boy, after my father. How would that be? Good solid, English names.’
Carl grunted in disgust. ‘Don’t be stupid, Mam. Isabel is a Spanish name, not English at all.’
‘Does it matter?’ Belle snapped. ‘I want her named after me. That’s what’s important for my first grandchild.’
Feeling bemused, Dena glanced across at Kenny, wondering what he thought about all of this, but he said nothing.
‘I’ve told our Kenny he should count himself lucky to get you.’
‘I think the reverse is more accurate, Mam,’ Carl put in. ‘Considering her alternatives.’
Was he always so unpleasant? Dena wondered, or did he reserve this special brand of sarcasm just for her?
Ignoring her son for once, Belle said, ‘So, have you two fixed the date yet?’
Dena shook her head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Now then, Kenny lad, you’ll have to shape yourself. Though no doubt you expect your old mam to sort it all out for you, as you do everything else.’
Belle continued to talk about the baby all through tea. Dena toyed with her tinned salmon and began to wonder whose baby it really was. Anyone would think it was Mrs Garside’s the way she was going on about it. Despite his mother’s gushing, Kenny was looking increasingly tense and Carl simply didn’t speak at all. He never even glanced Dena’s way, so that at the end of the meal, when the peaches and Nestle’s milk had all been finished and she offered to help clear away, Belle wouldn’t hear of it.
‘No love, you stay by the fire and put your feet up. Kenny can help me do the necessary. Carl, you talk to your sister-in-law-to-be. And do try to show your pleasant side for once.’
Left alone, the two of them stood for several seconds staring at each other. It was the strangest sensation Dena had ever experienced. He seemed to be looking right into her very soul, reading her unhappiness, her vulnerability. His eyes were of the darkest blue, very like his mother’s, narrowed and hooded, shadowed beneath the scowl of devilishly winged eyebrows. They were telling her that she might be able to fool his stupid brother but not him. He was far more shrewd and canny. Yet even as she gazed into them, Dena noted a change in his expression, as if he suddenly became less certain and didn’t know what to say to her, almost as if he were struggling to decide whether to condemn or pity her.
‘You’d best sit down,’ he said at last, his voice quieter, and with a gruffness to it. ‘You look as if you might fall down otherwise.’ He indicated she should sit on the sofa rather than in his mother’s armchair.
The offer wasn’t made with any sense of graciousness, nevertheless it felt almost as if he’d reached out and touched her for all he hadn’t moved an inch. Dena felt a lump come into her throat and she was forced to blink very hard, finding it difficult as always to accept sympathy, however grudgingly given. ‘I have been a bit sick lately, in the mornings mainly, but it’s passing off.’
Carl nodded, implying he understood perfectly when really he couldn’t at all, and they both fell silent once again.
They sat side by side on the sofa staring into the fire, saying nothing for some long moments, yet each acutely aware of the close proximity of the other. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees which gave her ample opportunity to study his face in profile while he stared into the flames. It was quite a nice face, ruggedly handsome with a square jaw, the skin smooth and darker than Kenny’s. His curly black hair was rumpled from constant combing with his fingers, and Dena had a sudden longing to do the same. What would it feel like? Soft and silky, or wiry and strong?
She felt strangely content to be sitting here beside him like this, all the awkwardness vanished as if it had never been, although why that should be she’d no idea. It was Carl who broke the silence.
‘You’ll have to be patient with my younger brother. He tends to act first and think later. Likes to show off and appear the big man.’
‘I’d noticed.’
‘He’s not a bad lad, but a bit head-strong and over-emotional, and not always in control of myself.’
‘Unlike you!’ The accusation came out on a gasp, as if she weren’t quite able to catch her breath. What on earth was happening to her? Why did she feel all trembly and nervy inside?
He half glanced at her, then looking quickly away got up to put more coal on the fire so that it was a while before he answered. ‘Let’s say I prefer to take my time
and weigh things up more carefully, rather then jump in with two left feet.’
He came to sit beside her again and relaxed against the sofa cushions, stretching one arm along the back of it, almost touching her hair. Dena felt a tightening inside, hating herself for this instinctive response her senses were making towards him, just because he was male and good looking, she supposed. She became aware of him studying her and turned to meet his gaze with a slight lift of her chin, determined not to show her weakness.
‘At least Kenny can be warm and enthusiastic, full of fun, not cold and unfeeling like some people.’
Carl’s smile, when it came, was frosty, and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. ‘I’m sure caution is not something you would understand. But make no mistake, although Kenny and I have our differences, he’s still my brother, and I’ll look out for him. Were anyone to try and hurt him, for instance, or take advantage of his naivety and his good nature, I’d have something to say on the matter. If you catch my drift?’
Dena had half expected him to apologise for what he’d said earlier, not issue what sounded very like a threat. The venom in his tone shook her and her veneer of confidence crumbled as she met his icy gaze. ‘I –I think so.’
‘Good. I’m glad we understand each other.’
‘I – I’m not sure that we do. I love Kenny, why would I want to take advantage of him, or hurt him in any way?’
‘I think you might, if it suited your ends to do so. Rather like helping yourself to all the tips, instead of sharing them?’
‘Oh, but . . .’
At which point Kenny bounced back into the room and it was time for him to take her home. Dena was suddenly reluctant to leave. She wanted to stay and have this out with Carl, to redeem herself in his eyes, but he was already walking away. The discussion was closed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dena started work on Winnie Watkin’s market stall first thing on Monday morning, and knew at once that she would love it. She gave the older woman a big hug. ‘I’m so happy to be back home again. Thanks for taking me on. You won’t regret it, I promise. I know I’ll have to give up when the baby is born, at least for a while, but I intend to work for as long as I can.’
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